


A Dull Ache

by yay_for_absurdism



Category: One Piece
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, a little bit about old injuries but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 08:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19247887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yay_for_absurdism/pseuds/yay_for_absurdism
Summary: In a certain town, in a certain country within the Grand Line, it was raining. And it was no secret that Crocodile didn't like the rain.





	A Dull Ache

In a certain town, in a certain country within the Grand Line, it was raining. 

It was no secret that he despised the rain. For the obvious reason of water being one of his main weaknesses, of course. But a fact known by very few was that the rain also made his scars hurt. 

It was pouring by now, the sound of rain deafening on the roof of the inn. Of course the most luxurious rooms were on the top level, with a wondrous view of the sprawling city and endless sea, but in a rainstorm that only meant he had the view of grey sky and the sound of rain pounding only a few feet above his head. 

He sighed, letting a puff of cigar smoke leave his mouth. The whole room was hazy from chain-smoking since the rain started, but the nicotine could only do so much to distract him from the dull throbbing in his arm. The only thing he could really do, at this point, was wait out the storm. 

With his remaining hand, he massaged the scar tissue around the stump of his left arm. His hook lay discarded on the bed, there was enough privacy in this inn that he felt comfortable enough being without it. Not that he wanted to be without his hook, the polished gold looked so much more regal that what lay beneath it. But the cold, hard metal made the pain worse. 

His cigar burnt down, and preoccupied with his arm, he had let it burn out. Damn it, now he had to get his lighter out. Of course he could, with one hand, light a cigar. But it was difficult. Not awkward, he would never look awkward, it was just slightly more difficult than with two hands. 

When he let go of his stump to reach for the cigar box and lighter that sat on the table beside him, he could see, in the dim light, crescent shaped fingernail marks in his skin. He hadn’t even felt himself press that hard. 

As he placed a new cigar between his lips, he heard the door open on the other side of the room. He stiffened, readying for a fight, but through the smoke he could see Daz step into the room and close the door behind him. 

“What do you want?” He asked the assassin, his voice a little more harsh than normal. 

“It’s raining.” 

“You don’t say.” 

“Does it hurt?” 

Daz was one of the few who knew the extent of his hatred of rain. “Yes.” he chuckled dryly. Then, softly. “Pathetic, isn’t it?” 

Daz said nothing, just coming to sit in the chair beside his boss. He reached out for the lighter, and lit Crocodile’s cigar for him. 

Giving him a nod of thanks, Crocodile took a long drag, the smoke a temporary, welcome distraction from the pain. They sat in silence, as the rain outside somehow managed to intensify. The window rattled as if the wind might rip it from the building and the battering of raindrops on the roof became almost deafening. So loud, in fact, that Crocodile almost didn’t hear Daz speak in his soft, even voice. 

“Here.” 

“What?” 

The assassin held out his hand. “Give me your arm.” 

He raised an eyebrow, giving his subordinate a questioning look. For a moment they locked eyes, waiting, examining the other’s face for emotion, evaluating the other’s intentions. Daz was, as always, stubbornly stoic. How annoying. It was sometimes impossible to read him. But Crocodile eventually extended his injured arm. 

Daz’s hands were surprisingly warm on his exposed skin. He always expected Daz to be cold, likely because of his devil fruit’s ability, but was in turn always proved wrong. But no matter, Crocodile was preoccupied by how uncomfortably odd it was having someone else touch his scars. No one had touched the mangled, useless remains of his left forearm in, oh, he didn’t even know how long it had been. Maybe ever? He tried his best to hide it, after all. 

The feeling was so horrid and unfamiliar that he almost told Daz to let go and leave him alone. But he didn’t. Because Daz began, gently, massaging the scar tissue around the stump of his arm and it helped. 

When Crocodile massaged his own arm, his fingers were guided by anger and annoyance and a little bit of guilt and a deep, burning need to make his weaknesses go away. But Daz’s hands were kinder, softer, removed from the trauma of failure and intent only on alleviating the pain. 

Daz’s gaze flickered from Crocodile’s arm to the man’s face. “Is it okay?” he asked. 

“It’s more than okay.” 

Daz smiled. How rare. 

Letting out a content sigh, Crocodile let himself relax into the plush armchair in which he sat. He even closed his eyes. It was bearable, almost comfortable now. When his cigar burn down, he only placed the remains in the ashtray and did not reach for another. He didn’t need to mask the pain anymore, it had faded to nothing more than the dull ache that was a constant presence in his life. Well then. He wasn’t ever going to say it, but he wished he would have asked Daz to do this long time ago. 

At some point, who knows how long it had been, he felt Daz’s hands work their way up from the scars, pushing Crocodile's shirt sleeve up above his elbow. 

Chuckling, he opened his eyes. “How presumptuous.” he muttered. 

“Am I wrong?” There was a levity in Daz’s voice that was seldom apparent as his hands slid across more of Crocodile’s skin. 

“No.” 

Daz smirked, and leaning forwards, placed a soft kiss along the scars of Crocodile’s left arm. 

He blinked, surprised. He was shocked, really. What a strange sensation, lips against his scars, and such an uncharacteristically tender thing for Daz to do. But then he laughed, loud even with the pounding of the rain attempting to drown him out, and he pulled Daz by the front of his shirt into a kiss. 

“You know, I would usually kill people for trying to do something like that.” he murmured into the kiss. “You’re lucky.” 

Daz’s grin widened, leaving his chair to sit atop his boss’ lap. “Aren’t I.” and he began unbuttoning Crocodile’s shirt. 

Pain all but forgotten, Crocodile wrapped his arms around Daz’s neck. He let his subordinate help him out of his shirt, tossing the garment aside, and reveled in Daz’s touch as those large, warm hands caressed his bare skin. He let himself relax, he let his eyes slip closed again, and he let a genuine smile light his lips. 

The sound of the rain pounding on the roof wasn’t so bad anymore. Maybe the storm was letting up.

**Author's Note:**

> I recently began re-reading One Piece and discovered how great this ship is?? And since there ain't much content for these boys I guess just I gotta make my own.


End file.
